KATHERINE TO THE WINNEBAGOS
Dec. 28, 19—.
Dearest and Best of Winnies:
Oh, you angels without wings, how am I ever going to thank you? How on earth did you manage to do it all? Such a Christmas present!
When I saw that array of boxes in the express office at Spencer all addressed to me I said to the agent, “There’s some mistake. Those can’t possibly be all mine.”
“You’re the only Katherine Adams in these parts, aren’t you?” said the agent, eyeing that imposing pile with unconcealed curiosity.
I admitted that I was, as far as I knew.
“Then they’re yours,” said the agent, and mine they proved to be.
Altogether there was a wagonload.
“What on earth?” said father and Justice when I drove up to the house. “Have you gone into the trucking business?”
“Christmas presents, Father!” I shouted. “All Christmas presents. I’ve got the whole of Santa Claus’s load. Quick, bring me a hammer and an ax and a jimmy!”
Oh, girls, when I saw what was in those first three boxes I just sat down on the floor and wept for joy. Only the Winnebagos could have thought of sending me the House of the Open Door. There were the Indian beds and Hinpoha’s bearskin and all the Navajo blankets and the pottery, just as I had seen it last in the Open Door Lodge, big as life and twice as natural. And the note from Sahwah that came along with them was a piece of Sahwah herself.
“The things are lonesome,” she wrote, “and pining for someone to love them and use them. I am sending them to your new Camp Fire because I know your girls will love them as they deserve to be loved. The ghosts of all the good times we had in the House of the Open Door are hovering around the things, so anyone that gets them can’t help falling under the old spell and learning how to squeeze the most fun out of every minute.
“The gymnasium apparatus is the Sandwiches’ Christmas present. It was Slim’s and the Captain’s idea to send it out to you for your girls and boys to use.
“The House of the Open Door is being turned into Red Cross work rooms for Camp Fire Girls and we need every inch of space for the work tables. Even our beloved Lodge is Giving Service.”
Gladys Evans, your father is an angel! He doesn’t need to wait until he gets to heaven for his halo, it’s visible a mile off, this minute! To think of sending me a graphophone and a hundred records! I simply can’t tell you what that is going to mean to my school. I won’t be able to drive the boys and girls away now!
And your mother! That lantern machine and the slides showing the Red Cross work and all the other splendid things is worth its weight in gold.
Oh, my dears! Where did you ever find time to make those twelve ceremonial dresses?
“FROM THE LAST OF THE WINNEBAGOS TO THE FIRST OF THE WENONAHS. LET BIG SISTER WINNIE SEE THAT LITTLE SISSY WEENIE IS PROPERLY CLOTHED.”
I’ll bet anything your friend Agony wrote that. I have a feeling that she and I are kindred spirits.
Won’t my girls revel in those beads and looms, though?
BOOKS! Four whole cases of them! What on earth have you done now?
“THE WINNEBAGO LIBRARY
PASSED ON BY THOSE WHO KNOW AND LOVE GOOD BOOKS TO THOSE WHO WILL SOON KNOW AND LOVE THEM”
How did you do it? Asked a hundred girls to give one book apiece? You don’t mean to say that there are a hundred girls interested in us poor backwoods folks out here in Spencer? I can’t believe it! Oh, we’ll work and work and work, to prove ourselves worthy of it all!
And oh, all those little personal pretties just for me! Hinpoha, where did you find that darling pen-holder with the parrot’s head on the end, and Gladys, who told you that I broke my handglass and was pining for a white ivory one?
And even a lump of sugar for Sandhelo and a bow for Piggy’s tail! I admire the artist who drew that bow.
The last box bore Nyoda’s return address. What do you suppose was in it? Her chafing dish! The very one she used to have in her room, that I used to admire so much. Dear Nyoda! She knew I would rather have that than anything else.
O my dears, there never was such a Christmas! There never will be such a Christmas! Nobody ever had such friends before. If I live to be a thousand years old I’ll never be able to return one-tenth of your kindness.
Yours, swimming in ecstasy,
Katherine.